Replacement
by nonotthatone
Summary: Clex, one-shot, angry PWP. Clark has some questions for Lex about Lana. Implied Lexana too - sorry! Set after Fade.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

A/N: At the advice of a few folks, I've started a livejournal for my fics. I'll cross-post but if you'd like to add me as a friend there, I'm using the same sn. There's a link in my profile too.

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Replacement

"I can't believe you would do this to me," Clark stormed without preamble, slamming through the French doors. Their tired crash barely registered in his hearing as he strode across the room.

"Clark." Lex greeted him with affected geniality, putting down his pool cue and turning towards him, palms placed with false causality on the felted rail. "I'm sorry, but you've lobbed so many accusations at me recently I'm afraid I don't know which one you're talking about."

They stood just feet apart, assuming their now-familiar poses of confrontation. For all the anger that crackled under Clark's skin, at least some of it was because they found themselves here at all. They had been so good once. It shouldn't have to be this way.

But it was, and that wasn't his fault. "Then you should ask yourself what lines you've crossed recently. For all our differences I guess I never thought you could cross this one."

"Your expectations of me have never been easy to live up to," Lex retorted, cocking his head. "I sometimes wonder if you set them too high on purpose, if you get some kind of sick thrill out of watching me fail."

"This isn't about all the ways you've let me down," Clark snapped. "I don't have that kind of time right now."

"Then what is it about?" Lex asked coolly.

Clark set his jaw. "I just talked to Lana."

So that was it. Lex felt just the tiniest trace of cold prickle across his skin. He fought to keep his expression placid even as he wondered if Clark was going to do something stupid like try to punch him. As much as he knew he had it coming, he didn't want to fight Clark. The sensation he was trying so hard to push off felt uncannily like sadness. Things between them should never have had to reach this point.

But they had, and it wasn't his fault. "I'm glad she told you, Clark," he said, turning away and moving towards his desk. "I didn't want to keep it from you. But I'm not sure there's anything for you and me to discuss."

Clark's anger flared again, hot and bitter in his throat. "You don't get to dismiss me like that," he threw at Lex's back. "I happen to have a couple of questions for you."

Lex turned and looked at him over his shoulder. "Do you now? And what if I don't care to answer them?"

Rage glittered in Clark's eyes. "I didn't say your answers mattered. I just said I had questions."

The next few things happened so fast, Lex could barely piece together the sequence of events. He was aware of pain in his head and back where Clark had pinned him up against the bookcase. He heard crystal shattering and books tumbling to the floor on either side of them. He couldn't remember actually seeing Clark move across the room, but those were his hands all right, fisted in the fabric of his shirt. And that was definitely Clark's mouth, hot and demanding against his.

It had been weeks since Lex had last tasted Clark's lips, but it felt longer. But it hadn't been he who'd pulled away; so Lex would be damned if he'd let Clark waltz into his study now and just kiss him like this, as if he had some right to expect better or different.

He pushed at Clark's shoulders as hard as he could. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I bet she kisses you like feathers," Clark answered angrily, fighting off Lex's hands and forcing their mouths back together. "I'm sure she doesn't kiss you like this."

Lex was no weakling, but Clark had always had the upper hand in sheer brute strength; he was wily and agile, but these things gave him no advantage when Clark got the drop on him. And Clark had definitely taken him by surprise. But what did he expect, a submission – a cry for mercy? He should know better by now.

Lex tore away from the kiss again and sneered, "I'm sure that's an answer you don't want. Does it hurt, then, Clark? To know you've been replaced?"

It was cruel; Lex knew it. But he wasn't about to let Clark do all the pushing. Things between them had been emotionless for so long; anger, though not pretty, was an emotion after all. Clark was always one to get carried away by his feelings. And Clark carried away was always interesting.

But Clark seemed to ignore the barb. "Shut up, Lex," he snarled, and dove into his mouth again. He knew what Lex was doing; he knew he was trying to goad him, regain control of the situation. It was a game they'd played often and Clark recognized it all too well. Too bad for Lex that Clark also remembered how to win. He had come here with only one intention tonight, and he wasn't leaving without making his point.

He used his height and size all to his advantage, pinioning Lex in place with all his weight even as he dragged his teeth across the sensitive edge of Lex's throat. Their bodies ground together and though Lex continued to struggle, it was clear to Clark that it was less about resistance than it was about creating the necessary friction.

"Does she still have such light fingers?" he asked, letting his hands travel roughly down Lex's body. He grabbed, kneaded, pressed, and Lex found he could not help gasping into Clark's all-consuming kiss. "I bet you haven't told her you hate to be touched like that."

He was right; he hadn't. And he did hate being touched that way, not that Clark was doing anything but the opposite at the moment. Lex was floundering now; for all the times he'd writhed beneath Clark's hands, he'd never before felt this sensation of being devoured. He was desperate to retort, but words failed him; and anyway, Clark left him little breath, space or even control of his own tongue to speak.

There was no shame in capitulation to a worthy opponent.

Clark knew he'd won when Lex finally returned his kiss with equal passion. He wasn't going to give him any consolation prizes, though; he pushed Lex's greedy hands away and continued his onslaught.

"Does she still sigh when you touch her and shiver when she comes?" he demanded, his grip tight and oh, just right. Somehow, hearing Clark talk about Lana was making it all so intensely erotic; Lex wondered crazily if there was any way he could ever have them both together.

"Isn't she the purest, most innocent thing you've ever seen?" Clark pressed on. Lex was nearly delirious now, the pounding in his arteries and the clink of Clark's teeth against his zipper almost too much to bear. "Or have you taken that away now, taught her the things you taught me?"

Clark's mouth was hot with rage and knew him so, so well; it wasn't long before Lex was coming hard, his fingers clenched in Clark's hair and his eyes screwed tightly shut. "God, Clark," he choked. His bones seemed to dissolve, and though he fumbled for purchase he felt himself sliding down the wall. When Lex finally opened his eyes, they had traded places; now he knelt on the floor looking up as Clark loomed over him.

"Don't slip and say that to her," Clark snapped bitterly.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, the air between them snapping with electricity. Then, squaring his shoulders like a man walking away from a fight, Clark turned his back.

"Clark."

"What?" he threw over his shoulder.

Lex hadn't stirred; he looked up from his knees with a wicked half-smile, his eyes daring as they caught Clark's and tried to hold them. This expression was, again, something Clark had seen before; this time, though, it was something he'd never been able to resist. "Don't you want me to …"

He was gone.

Yes, Clark raged as he sped through the windy dark with no destination in mind. The farm might be home, but it offered no comfort; no place on Earth could now. He'd gone to the mansion tonight to punish Lex, but now he wasn't sure he'd punished anyone but himself.

Yes, he'd wanted him to.

But there was no point. The frustrated ache he endured now would give way to another soon enough – and the thought of Lex and Lana together would not be so easily put aside. Above even physical release, Lex's greatest pleasure was in control … so why should he give him that last satisfaction? Why shouldn't he leave him as he'd been left, wanting?

Clark remembered all too well the smug look Lex always wore after showing off all his considerable skills. He didn't need to see it again. And he certainly didn't need to gaze at Lex through a haze of relief and endorphins and fool himself for one more second, to find in that expression a love that wasn't there and a loyalty that didn't exist.

It was over. And that look belonged to Lana now. So she could have it.


End file.
